Fearless Leader’s office is on my way to the kitchen so I wait until he runs his “errands” at lunch time before I go to rinse my coffee cup and refill it with hot water for my afternoon tea.
He’s always staring at me when I walk by his office door, trying to make eye contact, form the slightest emotional bond. I avoid this non-spoken interaction at all costs. AT ALL COSTS.
I’m also very pleased to announce that even though we have a kitchen in our office space, we have no sink. I first need to leave our space and walk to the building’s communal kitchen area to dispose of any left over morning coffee…and…then return to avoid his glances.
We do have a fridge (that I never use), a microwave, and a toaster oven but alas, no sink. Fearless Leader assumed we’d never need a drain of some sort. Because when you have all other major appliances (sans stove), cleaning up is the last thing you’d want to do.
Hinkley Springs brings big bottles of water twice a month because the landlord advises tenants to “not drink the water” from the communal tap.
What about the microwave you ask? Well, there is indeed an upcoming story on that front.
We also have a one foot high garbage can that I refuse to use. All my trash either goes home or to the communal kitchen. Does it surprise you that our can is overflowing constantly because nobody ever takes it out? It shouldn’t but it does explain why I never use it.
Install a slop bucket for used coffee. Put it where you can make eye contact with the boss. Every day, lock eyes and stare him down without speaking as you slowly pour the old coffee into the bucket and then walk away. Never empty the bucket. Never.
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yeah, keamoose is on to something here. but i was thinking old school: conceal a hand grenade and sort of sneak up on him. maybe while he’s moving his bowels. it would be easier during this time of day because he’d already have his pants down. then kind of sneak up on him and plunge the device 14 or 15 inches or so up his keester. i know, i know, it’s messier my way but you blow his shit up. remember, no lingering. pull your arm out as quickly as possible and MOVE AWAY from the incident.
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I tend to favour the psychological torture, but if you do go with the grenade plan, wear gloves.
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i think grenades come with a pair of disposable gloves?
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The name brands do, but not the grocery store grenades.
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good to know
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There really was a slop bucket at one point, something like the one pictured below. My boss and the other nerd developer would actually dump their left over coffee in it day after day.
Of course (1) it would go moldy and smell something foul. As soon as I saw the white blooms, I would cover the container with whatever bag I could find.
Of course (2) nobody thought it as gross as I.
Of course (3) nobody would dump it unless clients were coming in.
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Truth is stranger than fiction. How about you just dump your leftover coffee on the boss’s chair every day?
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Ok, they have to know they’re growing mold. When it’s gone that far, just crap on his chair. If he went DNA on you, he’d know, but it would have to be expensive as hell for him. In the meantime, just completely wear a straight face and say you don’t know what he’s talking about. You could up the ante after the initial wave by crapping on his desk. Or shit in his wastebasket. Never bat an eye and claim innocence and ignorance. Or…my favorite: the difference between ignorance and apathy? I don’t know and I don’t care. My boss keeps her little closet of an office locked, but she leaves the keys dangling in the door handle when she’s there. I thought of just swiping them and throwing them in the dumpster, but I wouldn’t be able to maintain a straight face.
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Speaking of keeping straight faces…
I used to drink the office coffee. But I stopped. On purpose.
Partly because I started limiting myself to one pot of coffee a day and I drink that before I go to work and bring in a to-go cup if I don’t finish it.
Partly because I got sick of being the only one who made it. And making it means that I had to clean up after yesterday’s coffee. And that means walking down the hall to the communal sink. The coffee pot is also ridiculously complicated. One has to touch all the parts with blue arrows.
The Moccamaster pot itself used to sit in our big room after I made coffee since that’s where the majority of us are.
Anyways… I told everyone in the office that I wasn’t going to be drinking coffee at work anymore the day before I stopped. This was an implication that I also wouldn’t be making coffee either.
The next morning Moccamaster was sitting where it always sat but nobody took the initiative to make coffee. Imagine that.
Fearless Leader rolls into work around 9:45 am and heads straight for the Moccamaster as usual. I wait until he fills up his cup and starts to head for his office before I say “that’s probably yesterday’s coffee.” He turns around disgusted and looks at me. Then he turns again and goes into his office. I could barely contain my giggles.
Moccamaster now sits in the kitchen, usually dirty and half full of coffee from god-knows-when.
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